Walk with the Dead
by Klexenia
Summary: Hell knew how she deserved to be dragged off by some guy who'd just kicked the bucket to find his may-or-may-not-be-dead brother, or, for that matter, why it was her mouldy job to babysit the ghost of a hyperactive dead girl. AceOC, sort of. Set during time-skip, canon consistent. Warnings for language and dead people.
1. We've got Company - 1-1 The girl

**_Walk with the Dead_**

_Disc.:__ Poor Roger would turn in his grave if I'd claim what's probably his favorite swim suit. I don't care much for swimming anyway. So no, I don't own One Piece._

_A shout-out for my awesome betas, preases and 31esser. They're golden._

* * *

**Preface**

_In the end, you die._

_There's a plan, somewhere, but right now you're a mouldy mess and one that's about to die, too. It might be one of those desperately-noble-and-really-stupid things. You hope it's not, because that would create a mess on a whole different level of selfishness and you're not ready to go there._

_This is the point where you ought to reflect on your life, right? Decide that you've changed for the better and think about how you're not regretting a single thing or some other crap. __But your life is a wreck, and this had better work, since you'd rather not die. Even if the dying bit is sort of essential._

_In the end, it's complicated._

_It's simple._

_You're a mess._

_You die._

_Your death won't save what's been dead all along._

* * *

**Part 1. We've got Company**

_"Do you think we'll have an adventure when we're bigger?"_

_The innocent question hung in the air. You watched the almost perfect arch her projectile flew and only answered after it had returned safely to her hands._

_"I think we have plenty of adventures as it is."_

_She pouted. "I mean a real one, somewhere that's not here."_

_You opened your mouth, but he was faster, returning with the fruit she had just cut loose at her first throw._

_"If you look for it, you can find adventure everywhere, right?"_

_At her frown, he laughed and tousled her hair. "Tell you what, if you decide to go out, we'll come with."_

_"Of course!" she piped indignantly. "It's no fun alone!"_

_"Fine." You heaved a deep sigh yet still couldn't help but smile. "As long as we keep each other company."_

**1.1. The Girl**

The day everything went downhill was probably the day after Remi died.

Sure, technically, Lana's life had been doomed long before this fateful day. She could easily list a handful others from the past which were decidedly worse, and more than responsible for pushing her onto this messed up path. But those were another matter entirely and since cursing them over and over again had gotten pretty old, this one would have to do as doomsday from now on. If it weren't for this particular day, she'd still have her quiet little life on that beautifully dull island in South Blue: where everything was perfectly fine and utterly uncomplicated.

Maybe it would be more accurate to curse the day Remi had actually died, not the following one. It was, after all, the simple act of dying that jump-started all the trouble. However, this had happened to be Lana's _day off_, and it had been a very nice one. Good workout and fabulous weather included.

How was she supposed to know that at the same time, some god-damn brat was taking her last breath?

In fact, she had been counting on the no-dead-people situation of this stupid island, which was so remote and peaceful with a tiny population, the only way to drop dead was of old age or quite possibly, of boredom.

Or, in the case of some idiotic nine-year-old; by finding what might've been the only deadly poisonous plant on the entire mouldy island and proceeding to eat it, in a baffling stroke of genius which probably came down to "what's-this-oh-let's-eat-it-and-see-what-happens". If the girl hadn't already died, Lana was sure she'd somehow do it again, too. But that didn't mean people weren't in a state of mourning, it was a small town on a small island, and one was bound to know each other one way or the other.

As such, the downtrodden mood couldn't escape even _Lana's_ notice while she served food and drinks in the common room.

"Hey, Jet?" she called and entered the kitchen balancing a tray of empty glasses. "D'you know why everyone in there is so quiet? They're usually a lot more vocal."

The owner of the tavern turned from his conversation with their cook. Defying his name, he was a man of a size he'd eclipse the sun outside whenever he entered a room– simultaneously _eclipsing_ any thoughts of trouble a patron might have been stirring up.

"You haven't heard?" he sighed and grimaced, "Maria's little girl passed away yesterday morning."

_"What?!"_

_Crash!_

_... Little girl passed away yesterday._

"Shit!"

"Lana! Be careful!"

"You better clean that back up the floor of my kitchen, girl!"

Lana looked down at the mess of gleaming pieces of glass at her feet and back to her traitorous hands. "Sorry," she murmured numbly. Her heart was racing, threatening to jump right out of her ribcage.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_ dammit. She was supposed to be good. There had been no twitches of any treacherous body parts at the mention of someone five feet under in ages, not a single one. She'd gotten rid of it, so damn long ago, right along with her fears.

She'd been _safe_.

Do something useful, her brain commanded. Scratch that, do anything _at all_, or your legs will take matters in their own hands.

She was_ supposed_ to be bloody_ safe_.

The shards twinkled back at her from the floor, mocking her. They needed to go.

Jet's voice was soft. "Did you know Remi?"

"Who?" She glanced at him in confusion, hands on the half-opened door to the spacious broom cupboard and intent on finding something to eliminate the sparkling evidence of her mishap.

The cook snorted. "Well, there's your answer." He shook his head and returned to his daunting task of neatly chopping some vegetables.

Lana frowned at his back. What was his name again? Harold? Harry? Henry? Something with a 'H'. She couldn't recall, especially with her mind being preoccupied with trying to convince the rest of her body to resist the damn urge to panic. As in, to _not_ drop everything then and there and make a run for the hills.

"I have no idea -"

"Remi. The girl who died," Jet interrupted her.

She blinked.

"Oh." That ... actually made sense.

Jet nodded and miraculously produced a pair of dustpan and broom from under the counter, handing them to her over the sea of shattered glass. Why the hell they had been there and not where they belonged - for example, the_ broom cupboard_ - was anyone's guess.

"I thought you might've known her, with the way you reacted."

She did react that way, didn't she? Stupid. There was absolutely no reason to freak out.

_Yet_, a voice in her head supplied helpfully.

Quickly, Lana crouched down and swept the glass together.

"Uhm. No," her mind scrambled for an answer. "It's just ... you know, shocking to hear someone so young dying, I guess?" There, that seemed vague but satisfying enough.

Jet sighed. "Right you are. Such a shame, too ..." He trailed off, then shook himself.

"Well, I guess life must go on. I'll go back behind the bar now. If you're done here, bring some replacement for those tankards from the cupboard, alright?"

"Sure," Lana mumbled and Jet squeezed her shoulder in passing. It was probably meant as a comforting gesture, but it didn't do the job at all.

The cook furrowed his brows at her when she scurried past him and dumped the remnants of five formerly perfectly usable tankards.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he informed her.

Lana gave a shaky laugh, choking on the damn irony. "Let's mouldy hope not."

She ignored the raised eyebrows and the accompanying look, because the damn cook had no mildewed clue and it was better that way. He'd hopefully forget the incident right after she stepped out of his kitchen. Maybe she could even manage the same. After all, it didn't need to mean anything. A girl died, so what? Didn't mean she could get involved. Sure, there was a slightly higher chance she'd remain given the young age, but that was it: A chance. Nothing proven and nothing certain, not at all. Certainly nothing to panic over. No, it would be utterly silly to worry herself over something so insignificant.

Straightening her apron, hands with tray not shaking in the slightest, she nodded to herself and re-entered the common room. The calmest person on the entire island, yes.

The people were dressed in muted colours. Muted. Colours. Black, really, but she was trying to be calm, so muted it was. And then the whispers!

_"So full of life! You know, I've talked to her just the day before! I never would've thought-"_

_"It's hard to believe, I know-"_

How could she have missed the whispers?

_"Where did she get that stuff anyway?"_

_"You've got to go some way inland to find that plant–"_

Okay, so they were allowed to speculate, but...

_"Heard the parents aren't taking it so well–"_

_"I don't know what I'd do if Tommy would–"_

... did they have to do it so damn excessively?

_"Poisoned! Just imagine–"_

For crying out loud, Lana thought and returned to the bar for some refills. What happened to mourning in peace and quiet? The brat wouldn't come back to life, even if they talked each other's ears off about it.

"Oh,_ come on!"_

Someone apparently agreed with her wish for a change of topic.

"You're no fun at all!"

Sadly, not so much with her appreciation for silence.

"I'm bored! You're acting dumber than grass, just do something!"

Lana set down her tray on the bar top with a little more force than was necessary, narrowing her eyes in the direction of the high-pitched voice. A little girl - with her blue hair in _pigtails_ of all things - was hovering at the elbow of some woman, her face a picture of disapproval. Said woman wasn't even batting an eyelash. The girl resolved to express her discontent in growing volumes and Lana found her ears assaulted with increasingly creative whines and insults employing various forms of greenery. She had just reached comparing the woman to a poplar, when Lana towered over her.

"Could you knock it out? Some people are_ trying_ to enjoy their meal."

_And perhaps start mourning in peace,_ she added silently.

The girl blinked comically and clamped her mouth shut. Lana smirked in triumph.

... Until she turned to the woman and found her staring openly.

Lana scowled. "Staring is rude."

The woman's eyes widened and she exchanged glances with the two others on the table. Lana's stomach began to churn uncomfortably. _This_ was familiar.

"You can _see_ me! _Awesome!"_

There it was. Lana closed her eyes briefly. "I just talked to air, didn't I?"

She didn't wait for the confirming nods. She didn't need to, just as she didn't need to do a double take on the girl. Fat load of good would noticing the slight glow and lack of shadow of that little girl do her _now_.

She whirled around and fled, but Pigtails was right on her heels.

"How come you can see me? Who are you? Where are we going? Oh, are we playing catch? Great!", the girl babbled away, tearing after her past the bar and a bewildered Jet, who Lana barely took the time to call a quick "Sorry!" to before slamming the door behind her.

Maybe that would hold the girl up - figuring out how to get past obstacles. She hadn't been dead for very long, so chances were it hadn't crossed her mind that walking through any solid matter was a definite option now. Lana didn't stick around long enough to find out. She made for the stairs, taking three steps at a time. She had just reached the landing when she heard another high-pitched _"Awesome!"_.

So much for that _solid_ matter.

In the split second she had, she sprinted to the only room she could use to hide effectively. The door was quickly shut behind her, but since this wasn't an obstacle any more, Lana prayed the girl would be held back by the number of rooms she needed to search. Lana rushed over to the window and onto the outer windowsill, her eyes on the branch of a tree growing beside the house. Thankfully, she hadn't slacked off these past years and so jumping over and pulling herself up went smoothly. She scrambled higher and higher, until she had to stay still, afraid that any more movements might her alert the girl of her hiding place. Only then did she tell herself to sit tight and breathe.

She didn't need to wait for long.

Pigtails's head popped through the window which had fallen shut behind her. Lana could barely make her out through the foliage separating them, but she saw how the girl turned this way and that, before letting out a disappointed sigh.

"Oh, bilberry! I suck at hide and seek," Lana heard her whine. "And she was the first who would pay attention to me, too!"

Lana exhaled slowly.

She expected her to retreat and search the other rooms, but the spot of sky coloured hair remained where it was. The wind rustling the leaves was the only sound for a while. It was loud enough for Lana to almost miss the girl's voice when she spoke again, timidly.

"Why doesn't anyone want to talk to me anymore?"

Her heart dropped and Lana closed her eyes for a second. It had nothing to do with her, she would_ not_ get involved with another one ever again if she could help it, even if it was a goddamn kid. This wasn't her fight to fight.

_Go away,_ she thought with all her might.

And as if she'd heard her, the head finally disappeared. Lana kept her thoughts carefully blank and waited several more minutes that never seemed to end. Then she carefully made her way back down to the lowest branch and let herself drop the last two metres.

Pigtails might have given up looking for her - for now. But that didn't mean Lana could go back into the common room just yet, most likely, the girl had returned to trying to get someone - anyone - to notice her. If Lana showed up while she was still there, her successful getaway would have been for nothing, so she needed a place where she could stay and be informed when the room cleared out. She nodded to herself and headed for the backdoor.

Five minutes later, Lana was sitting on an overturned bucket in the broom closet.

She buried her face in her hands and forced herself to take deep breaths.

"Shit," she mourned. Shit, shit, _shit_.

A spirit.

A bloody spirit of a bloody kid on a bloody closed-knit island.

There_ was_ a reason to freak out after all.

She should've known it had been too good to last. Even if she had been so sure ... she had trusted that - and there had been nothing, not a single one the entire time,_ the entire mouldy time -_

She groaned. There it was, her lapse in judgement. Almost three years without a single ghost had lulled her into a false sense of security. She had _wanted_ to believe she had seen the last of them, that she was safe.

Hell knew she'd had enough of them to last a lifetime. Apparently, three years was all she'd get. Maybe there really wasn't anywhere where she'd be free of them. Everywhere people died, and everywhere there would be someone who wasn't quite done with this world yet.

And of course it had to be a kid. A kid without any idea how she wouldn't be talking to anyone anymore. No idea she was _dead_. What would happen when she found out? Because it was was a matter of _when_ and not_ if_, kids her age weren't dumb. She would feel so lonely ...

Don't go pitying anyone now, Lana chastised herself and lowered her hands. The girl was dead, and she'd learn to deal with it and hopefully move on soon after. There shouldn't be much holding her back.

Until then, she'd just ...

The door to the cupboard opened and bright rays hit her so hard she instinctively raised her hands. Only to find that the person appearing in the doorway was already shielding most of the light.

Jet blinked.

"Lana?!"

She smiled awkwardly. "Err ... Hi?"

"What are you ..." Jet stopped and shook his head, taking in her position. _"La-na,"_ he deliberately pronounced the syllables of her name and the corners of his lips twitched. "Are you _hiding_ in a _broom closet_?"

"Well - it's not like it's being used for the broom or the dustpan," Lana murmured and fiddled with a lock at the back of her short hair. "Err ... Yes?"

Jet chuckled. "I guess you really can't deal with death, can you?"

She opened her mouth and closed it.

"Bolted right after recognising her, didn't you," he saved her from asking, "Seems like you got a nose for mourning people, the way you sniffed out that girl's mother."

_Oh._

Wonderful, she acted like a weirdo right in front of the one who was already in an overly emotional state.

Jet sighed and smiled wryly. "I guess if it makes you feel more comfortable, you can stay away from the bar 'till tonight. Most have left by now, anyway, since the ceremony's starting soon."

She had the best boss in the world.

"Thank you," she breathed and got up. "I'll just ... be outside, I guess."

He squeezed her shoulder again, and this time, it did feel a little comforting.

* * *

_Your small hands pushed the door to the special storage open, as quietly as you could._

_"There!" your partner in crime whispered. Following his outstretched finger, you spotted the carefully wrapped bundle._

_Your target._

_"Do you think Daddy will buy it?" you asked, scurrying over for closer inspection._

_He nodded and helped you uncover the fine linen. "For sure! It's supposed to be a very rare one, so we could sell the seeds for a huge profit!"_

_Your scoff was stopped short when you've both finally pulled aside the last layer._

_"Wow," you breathed in awe. "I've never seen this variety before!"_

_It was reminiscent of an avocado in shape, but that was where the similarities ended. Dozens of what seemed to be curled seeds glowed a bright purple. They spiraled all around the form, round and round to reunite, at last, in an elegantly curved stem at the top._

_It was wonderful. It was exotic._

_It was looking absolutely enticing._

_"So they're going to get it for the seeds, right?" you said, not taking your eyes of the fruit._

_His face was as mesmerized as yours. "Yeah, it's useless for anything else, it's only one fruit."_

_"So," you licked your lips. "It doesn't matter if we take just one bite, right? Before it starts to mould."_

_He hesitated, but you were already reaching out._

_It was going to be the last exotic fruit you'd try for a very long time._

* * *

When Lana left the tavern, she couldn't fathom how little the issue was from being over and done with. The real shit only hit the fan later.

She'd done what she'd told Jet in the kitchen and had walked right out the back door, past a few houses and fields, until she'd reached the light forest covering the inner island. Then, she ran.

Over hedge and ditch she went, somersaulting over roots and tree trunks, ducking under branches or using them to swing herself forward. Dodge this pitch, pay attention to those twigs, make no noise. _Concentrate. _It wouldn't take her long to cross the woods this way, it never did, no matter how different the paths she took each time might have been. She kept moving, never stopping, only the sound of leaves in the wind and her breathing in her ears, as she circled back, close to the forest line.

Understandably, she was entirely unprepared for the sudden scream in a very familiar, high-pitched voice.

_**"Stop it!"**_

Lana missed a step and stumbled, cursing. Her right arm caught onto a wayward branch just in time to save her from landing in the mud.

"I said stop it! What are you doing?! Just _stop!"_

Where the hell -_ the cemetery_. She never had a reason to stay away from it, or make a detour far around where the final resting place of the dead met the trees. None of the ghosts she had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering had ever indicated preferring to lurk around their graves, no, it might even the safest place one could be to avoid them, so why -

Lana pushed herself up and peered over the bushes separating her from the cemetery wall. Half of the village appeared to have gathered at the other side of the yard and from the looks of it, they had about just finished lowering a small coffin into its grave.

Much to the chagrin of a little blue-haired girl with pigtails.

Well, there. Looked like the funeral party had an uninvited guest - who just happened to be the lead character.

"That's me in there, didn't you see? Mummy! You can't -" Her voice hitched, as she tried to pull on the sleeve of the woman from the bar. Her hands went right through, but she only kept on trying. Heavy sobs were shaking her small body as she balled her fists and turned to try and pommel the man next to the woman.

But there was no impact, would never again be any impact. She fell through him to the ground - and he just went on to shovel the next heap of dirt down the gaping hole.

_"Why are you doing this!? Please, stop it!"_

Lana felt the air temperature around her increasing and closed her eyes. "Damn it all."

As if on cue, the wind started to pick up. The branches around her rustled in alarm, chiming in into the first movement in a raging symphony of spiritual despair. If she didn't do anything anytime soon, Lana would have a violent thunderstorm on her hands. There was no time to wonder about the strength of this mouldy girl's spiritual activity - not longer than it took her to curse it's nasty habit of changing the weather for the worse.

She followed a small trail leading through the bushes to the wall, which was low enough for Lana to mount and jump down on the other side. She dreaded to go near the party, no less their leading mourners, plus, she was probably dressed quite inappropriately for the occasion and might even smell a little bit from her free run. When the crowd began to notice her approach, it was quickly accompanied by frowns and disapproving glares. It almost made her turn on her heels right there and leave.

But the wails of Pigtails were echoing around the graveyard and a faint rumbling echoed in the distance, so she pressed on, walking around the gathering.

The girl had fallen through the bodies of her parents, her fists hammering on the earth. Lana was glad she didn't have to go right to the edge of the grave with the added attention. She crouched down behind the couple.

The girl didn't see her until Lana reached out and stopped her arms from flailing. Her head snapped up and reddened eyes widened in recognition.

"You -!" The girl hiccuped.

"Come on, Pigtails," Lana told her in a low voice. "Let's go."

"No!" She shook her head vigorously, her pigtails flapping around and hitting the sides of her face. "I need to stop them!" Sniffing, she pointed at Lana with her free hand. "Stop them!"

Lana sighed. "I can't." She looked at the girl and grimaced. "I'm sorry."

"Please!" the girl begged, staring at her with a tear-stained face.

Wordlessly, Lana took her other arm as well and pulled her up, ignoring the looks she received from the few who were watching her. The girl started to resist when she guided her away from the grave, but Lana kept an iron grip on the struggling form. She felt like she was wrestling with a bloody howling wolf the entire way across the graveyard.

Just before they reached the wall, the girl went limp. Grateful as she was for it, Lana didn't feel like figuring out how to get her over the barrier and settled for a small stone bench on the path running along the wall. She dragged the girl over and dropped her, and just in case Pigtails decided to run off, Lana took hold of her small hand.

But the girl pulled her hand away and flung her arms around Lana instead, sobbing into her shirt.

"There, there," Lana said and awkwardly patted the girl's back. "Calm down now."

Pigtails ignored her in favour of soaking her clothes and Lana resigned herself to waiting patiently. The sky had started to clear up again, thanks to the strong winds in this area and the loss of the distressing aura. Lana found herself sighing in relief. She didn't need to get any wetter than she already was. As for the root of the mess … for whatever reason, the girl had just attended her own funeral. She had probably blindly followed her mother or something. The people here seemed quicker to bury their dead than anywhere else Lana had been. Maybe that justified a little meltdown on the girl's side, but to throw a violent fit as this ...

Full of life, alright.

A small hand crept up and clutched her left shoulder right at the base of her neck, and Lana winced at the quick, tugging pain. She grasped the wrist of the girl reflexively and pushed it back down, meeting her imploring eyes.

"No hugging my neck," Lana told her sternly.

"Why?" the girl snuffled and used the hand instead to wipe her nose, smearing it on Lana's shirt.

Lana made a face. "Just a scar. No touchy."

"You have a scar?"

"Yup."

The girl rested her head on Lana's upper arm, staring at her with wide eyes. "What from?"

"One of you guys." Seeing her scrunch up her nose in indignation, Lana elaborated quickly. "A ghost."

Pigtails's face cleared and she nodded, rubbing the rest of her tears on Lana's arm in the process. "So I'm a ghost now, and there are others, too?"

"Aren't you a little genius."

"So …. " the girl hesitated and looked over to the funeral ceremony. They had finished filling up her grave and were slowly walking down the path to the gate. Only her parents remained, hand in hand, her mother holding out a bunch of white flowers. "That means I'm dead, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." Lana regarded her out of the corner of her eye. "You okay now?"

"Calla Lilies," the girl whispered.

Lana blinked. "Huh?"

"The flowers. They're called Calla Lilies."

"Okay." Lana shrugged. "What of it?"

The girl glanced at her as if Lana had just dribbled on her shirt. "They're symbolic. Like, they use them funerals, but also for marriages and stuff."

Lana raised an eyebrow. "Nice."

"Didn't you know?"

Watching the woman lay down the flowers, Lana tried to remember what flowers had lain on the last grave she'd seen, but gave up quickly when her throat became painfully dry. She had had other things on mind that day.

"No."

"Oh." The girl's eyes jumped from the retreating backs of her parents to the flowers in front of her gravestone. After a pause, she added: "They're also poisonous."

"Nice," Lana repeated.

"Daddy is a gardener," the girl continued, and her voice grew small. "They won't ... ever see me again, will they?"

The gate creaked in the distance as a breeze closed it after the black clad figures.

"No."

Nodding, the girl fell silent. Lana listened to the way the wind whispered as it swept between the rows of tombstones, having long given up to make sense of it. A blackbird fluttered by and landed not to far on a stone withered with age, scolding them in its unmistakable chant.

"So ... who're you, then?"

Lana turned to see Pigtails inspecting her face.

"I mean, I've seen you, you're Lana and you work at the tavern, but you're not from here, are you?" The girl tilted her head. "Where you're from, does everyone see the dead?"

"That's a lot of questions," Lana observed.

"Not really," the girl retorted and smiled cheekily.

Lana sighed. "Well, I'm not from here, you're spot on. But ... no, where I'm from, nobody can see ghosts, just like here. It's a pretty unique trait."

"Why d'you have it?"

"Because I was a nosy girl too, once, and I ate a fruit I shouldn't have. To be fair, though, how was I supposed to know the difference between a normal exotic fruit and an absolutely disgusting devil fruit? They're supposed to be a legend."

"Huh." The girl's face darkened and she looked away, reminding Lana of the murmurs in the tavern.

She gave her a nudge. "Heard you poisoned yourself 'cause you messed with a plant you shouldn't have, is that right?"

Pigtails buried her face in Lana's side. That would be a yes, then.

The dimming light made Lana cast a glance to the sky, which was darkening by the second. She would have to return to the bar soon, so she'd better figure out what to do with Pigtails.

Lana sighed. "So what's your name, anyway?"

"Remi." The girl's relief at the change of subject was evident in her voice.

"Well then, Remi. What's next?"

The girl looked up. "Don't you know, since you see ghosts all the time?"

"First of all, I don't see them all the time, thank God. Most people just move right on to wherever the hell people go when they die." Another breeze swept some of her curly bangs in her eyes and she blew them back. "Only some stick around as ghosts, but don't ask me why - if it were for me, they would all be taking the non-stop ferry straight across the river."

"So you don't know?"

"Nope."

The girl scrunched up her face in thought. "That's silly. You should know, so you can help the ghosts."

"Hey, I'm not some goody two-shoes," Lana objected with a huff. "I don't like ghosts. D'you know how it makes me look on the outside, talking to you guys? It makes me look a weirdo, a freak, that's what. 'Cause to everyone else, I'm conversing with empty space."

"But you're not," the girl reasoned.

Lana rolled her eyes. "Well, tell them that. Oh wait. _They can't hear you."_

"You're mean."

"Tough."

Pigtails stuck out the tongue, but didn't seem to be done yet. "You're always alone, right?"

Lana raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because lonely people are always mean. Like the old man by the oaks. He's always mean when we come and help, because he's always alone."

Lana didn't know who the guy was, nor did she care. "You've got it wrong, kid. Lonely and keeping to yourself isn't the same thing. I for one, like having some peace and quiet." Not to mention saving herself awkward explanations.

"But that's boring!" Pigtails protested and started to swing her legs back and forth. She really had gotten over the whole being-dead thing fast, considering all the fuss she had made only moments ago. But for some reason, Lana couldn't find it in herself to feel much relief. Especially not when the girl suddenly stilled, a brilliant smile slowly blooming on her face.

Something told Lana that she wasn't going to like whatever thoughts the kid had cooked up. She should better make herself scarce while she still -

"I'm gonna stay with you!"

Lana stared at her, horrified.

"It's obvious!" The girl squealed in delight. "See, I know this ghost story, where a ghost was only there because he still had things to do, you know? He couldn't move on because of it. And now I know what I have to do!"

"Do you," Lana managed to bring out.

"Yes!" the girl nodded with great enthusiasm. "You're lonely and now you have me, so you won't be lonely anymore! I'll stay with you all the time now!"

Lana choked. "No! No-no-no-no. You don't have to. Really!"

"I'll be like your guardian angel! A really, really awesome one!"

"Please don't," Lana groaned.

She could already picture all the problems she'd have with this one hanging around her twenty-four seven. Awkward conversations and slanted looks were just part of it. She didn't need a rotten kid demanding her attention -

"... And I can do all sorts of things! Did you know I can walk through doors and stuff?"

Lana jumped to her feet and shook off the kid's arms.

"Yes and no," she said as firmly as she could, "No, you won't stay with me."

"But why?"

"Because I don't want you to," Lana argued irritably, as she made her way to the wall and climbed over. "And because you need to move on."

"You can't know yet." The girl stepped straight through the solid stone behind Lana. "See? You're going to change your mind!"

Desperately trying to ignore her, Lana sprinted down the path at the edge of the forest. But part of her knew she was fighting a lost cause. She wouldn't be able to hide from Pigtails anymore. The girl had, after all, all the time in the world to look for her.

_"It's gonna be so daisily awesome!"_

She just had to go and land herself in a mess again, didn't she.

* * *

To the west of some beautifully dull island in South Blue, a small ship made its way through the waves, quietly and steadily. It was loaded with various more-or-less useful knickknacks, a few barrels of sake and rum and dozens of boxes containing other things living people needed to, well,_ live_.

Only ... out of the three passengers on the ship, just one was actually alive.

Or how alive one might consider a man with lanky hair and an empty, haunted look in his eyes, who was drooling slightly out of the corner of his mouth.

"Are you sure he can reach the next island?"

The other spirit grinned. "Oh, don't worry. He's quite alright."

"Hm. Thank you for the passage, then."

"So," he waved the topic aside. "What was this you told me about looking for someone?"

"Yeah, my brother is probably still around -"

"No, not him. The other one."

"Oh." The spirit leaned back and tipped his rather peculiar, orange hat. "Just the person who can talk to us ghosts. It's supposed to be a girl. I need her to help me find him."

A smirk grazed the features of the other spirit.

"Oh, she'll be of help, alright."

* * *

_A/N:__ Hello! Welcome to the adventures of one hothead's afterlife. There's a Plot with capital P, lots of canon allusions and -characters, but plenty of new stuff as well._

_Now, just to be clear, I started this story long before chapter 731 came out - let it be known that I called it, ha! It only made this officially and totally canon compatible._

_Reviews make me happy._


	2. 1-2 The Guy

_Disc: I have no desire to become a pile of ash, so I refuse to take any responsibility for One Piece and thus that maniac who came after me with a flaming fist. Heaven knows what that was about._

* * *

**1.2 The Guy**

There was certainly something to be said about the beauty of waking up at your own pace. The morning sun would send tendrils of light through your window, tickling your nose, while specks of dust danced merrily around you. In an ideal world, birds would chirp cheerfully out in front of your window. Then you would slowly open your eyes, stifle a yawn, and sign in utter contentment at the feeling of being well rested.

"Lana~"

Lana found out fairly quickly that she wouldn't be able to enjoy this kind of luxury any longer.

"Lana! Are you awake yet? Laaaanaaa~"

She groaned and turned around to bury her face in her pillow. "I swear, if you weren't dead already ..."

"Did you say something?" the owner of the overly chipper and incredibly _annoying_ voice jumped on top of her, apparently still delighting in the fact that she could poke and prod Lana and would meet resistance.

For a ghost of a nine-year-old, she was bloody _heavy_.

"Gerroff me. 'M sleepin'."

The girl frowned. "No you're not. You're talking to me."

"I'm talking in my sleep."

"You didn't talk until now!"

"Go away."

"But I'm bored!"

"I don't care."

Silence.

"_Now_ are you awake?"

Lana clenched her teeth.

"Fine," she grumbled and sat up, shoving the girl off her in the process. "I'm awake. But I'm not playing with you, or whatever the hell you want me to do, Pigtails."

The little nuisance crossed her arms and pouted. "I'm not that little, you know," she informed her from her new position at the end of the bed. "And my name is Remi. _Reeemiiii_. You're not very good with names, are you?"

"Whatever." Lana yawned. "And those nine years you've had, totally doesn't make you little. You've told me _all about it_ last night."

She had also been told what felt like the entire, oh-so-exciting life story of a gardener's daughter on an island where no ship ever bothered to come by. Not like she could recall any of it– had the girl even stopped talking before she fell asleep? Well, she certainly wasn't going to cry over it.

With Pigtails busy sulking on her bed, Lana stretched and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. If the girl wasn't blabbering or prodding her, it was easy to pretend she wasn't even there. This might be not be as difficult as she thought, with a little discipline–

"Your hair is weird."

Lana grimaced briefly and took out a new top from her drawer. "Is that so."

"Why is it so short? Doesn't it grow?"

"Of course it does." Lana rolled her eyes. "Ever heard of scissors? Then again, you probably weren't allowed to use them."

Someone knocked on the door to her room.

"Lana, this is your wake-up call," Jet's voice floated through the wood. "... Are you talking to someone?"

"Yes, to me!" Pigtails whooped cheerfully.

Lana closed her eyes and cursed silently. "No, it's just me here, talking to myself," she called. "Sorry, I'll be down in a sec."

"Alright …," Jet trailed off. "Though I wonder why you would think you're not allowed to use scissors ...?"

"Jet," Lana said as neutral as she could manage with the girl giggling in the background, "I've just woken up. I'll be right down, okay?"

"Alright then. If you want to have breakfast before starting, you should get going."

"Yes, Boss."

Jet chuckled and Lana listened to the sound of his fading footsteps. When she was sure that he was out of hearing range, she sharply spun around to the ghost on her bed.

"Now listen, Pigtails," she ground out and waved her finger in the girl's face, "if you _must_ stay with me, there are some rules you better follow, or I won't care if you're a kid and beat. You. Up."

Pigtails tilted her head. "Okay."

_Well, that was easy._ Lana took a deep breath. "No talking to me loudly while there are living, breathing people are around. Or better, don't talk at all then. Same goes for any tugging, poking or generally touching me. No talk. No touch. Understand?"

The girl blinked. "That's all?"

Lana snorted and bent down to retrieve her shoes. "I'll count myself lucky if you can just manage that."

"Okay." Pigtails grinned and jumped down from the mattress as soon as Lana had finished tying her shoelaces.

The girl leaped ahead through the door before Lana could open it. She rolled her eyes. It would take a lot more than this simple parlour trick to impress her; she might not know the exact extent of a ghosts potential powers, due to a very deliberate lack of trying, but after what she had seen it would be silly to expect a limit. Walls were nothing. The floor, however, was a different level entirely. The only spirit she had witnessed phasing through the floors had been deceased for years. On other instances, what they could and couldn't step on seemed to rely pretty much on instinct. Lana supposed the past experience of how gravity should work was too deeply rooted in their conscience to overcome it without difficulties and deliberate trying—pretty uncommon, since spirits generally had enough trouble letting go of life as it was. So unless the unlikely happened and the girl ever figured it out, she would have to take the stairs with Lana.

"I have some errands for you to run," Jet told her, after she shuffled into the kitchen and sent a murmured "Morning" his way.

Lana reached for the bread. "Sure. Do you have a list for me?"

"Well, it's mostly the usual." The chair creaked under his weight as he sat down at the head of the table to keep her company. He couldn't know that as of a few hours, a little girl had claimed "keeping Lana company" as her personal mission and was currently sauntering through the table, admiring the worn-out tabletop underneath her chest.

"But I'd like you to get some fish this time as well, Harry told me they hauled in a good catch at dawn. Also, there's a trading vessel at the harbour—are you listening to me?"

"Yes." She continued to glare at Pigtails, whose upper body stuck out of the table right were the jug of milk stood, effectively blocking it for Lana. The girl beamed and put a finger to her lips, as if she were saying: _See, I'm keeping the rules!_

Such a cheeky brat.

Jet followed her gaze. "Something wrong with the milk?" he asked and raised his eyebrows. "It might go sour if you keep sending that death glare."

"No," Lana sighed and gave up on the milk. "You said something … uh, fishy?"

"Fish, Lana, _fish_," Jet chuckled. "George—I mean, the fisherman—should know which ones, since Harry has already talked to him and—" he hesitated. "Are you sure you're alright? I know yesterday was a tough day for you."

_You don't know half of it,_ she thought grimly between two bites. Out loud, she said, "No, I'm just _peachy_. Is there something else?"

Jet didn't look convinced, but seemed to let it go. "Ah, it's not that important. I wanted to go have a look for myself, anyway."

"Alright," Lana shrugged and finished the rest of her breakfast, after which Jet gave her some money and ushered her outside with a basket and a grocery list in hand.

As soon as the tavern disappeared behind a corner, Lana addressed her second shadow.

"Okay, Pigtails," she said. "I have another rule for you: _Don't get in the bloody way._ Got it?"

The girl frowned. "How do I know if I'm in the way?"

Shaking her head, Lana exhaled and turned away. "How about this: Whenever I stare at you like I want to kill you—_again_—you move."

"That's easy," Pigtails nodded and started skipping alongside her. "Did you know the milk gets better if the cow eats different herbs?"

"No," Lana said curtly, raising a hand to greet a woman who had just stepped out of a house.

And while she passed more and more people on her way to the small harbour, the girl gave her an entirely unwanted lecture about some greenery or other, apparently having already forgotten "Rule number one: No talking" and pretty soon forgoing the second rule as well, tugging at the hem of her top whenever she wanted to emphasise a point. With every tug, Lana's expression fell a little more. She grimaced and kicked a pebble out of her way. It bounced a few times and hit the side of the shipping boat tied at the docks, before plummeting into the sea with a dull _plop_. The mouldy girl seemed absolutely intent on staying glued to her side. Which meant _everything_ Lana said and did would have to be considered first; if people were around, what would _they_ see and hear?

"—and right now he's checking what herbs that trader has to offer, maybe he's got something to spice things up juuust right, aye?"

She would also need to get used to all this talk about plants. _Fast._

"To have a trading vessel come by is so rare. Weren't you on one a few years ago? ... Hello?"

Lana blinked and found the fisherman she was supposed to buy fish from staring at her expectantly. What did he say?

"Yes, sure," she said hurriedly. "I'll take it."

The man chuckled and watched her putting the fish in her basket and cover it. "Never understood you foreigners. I couldn't imagine living somewhere else."

Hell knew how he'd gotten on _that_ subject.

"You get used to it. I never wanted to, either," she said and waved goodbye, leaving the door open behind her.

Pigtails grasped her free hand.

"What's it like where you're from?"

_A golden city, surrounded by green hills and filled with laughter. Streets lined with stalls bursting with colour under clay tiled roofs. The sound of marbles chiming against each other. And every evening, the air so sweet and heavy, hailing the seasons of the harvest._

Lana smiled weakly. "Bigger. Sunnier. And famous for its exotic fruits, so it's mostly covered in orchards—rows and rows of trees full of fruits. There's a huge festival in autumn and a parade all the way to the city to celebrate the harvest. We would—" she broke off and cleared her throat.

"Really? That's so awesome!" the girl exclaimed, then frowned,"But why did you leave if—"

"My family moved," _and they returned home, hopefully, with nothing holding them back anymore._

"Hm." The girl tugged at one of her pigtails in thought. "I think it'd be brilliant to get to see other places."

"Is that so."

"Of course! Just think of how many different plants and herbs there must be! Gramps always said—"

_Here we go again. _Lana sighed inwardly. They had reached a small house not far off the harbour, the first one on the round she did every other week for the tavern since she'd begun working for Jet. She smiled gratefully at the woman handing her roots and other vegetables Lana was just about able to identify and wouldn't, if it weren't for her list. The girl was going on and on about plants exactly like Lana remembered some guys back on her island did about exotic fruit varieties. After all, the family business was the favourite thing to discuss—if you didn't know about fruits, you didn't know anything in their eyes. All that knowledge was gone now, forgotten, pushed aside by the more pressing matters that came after.

To Lana's own surprise, she got along fairly quickly—despite having to act as if there wasn't a kid constantly pulling at her limbs and clothes while talking her ears off. Everyone seemed to speed up their transaction today; soon enough, she found herself wrapping up her last purchase and heaved the basket out to the street with one arm.

"And then, he said there's this plant, where the dried milk can make you fall asleep if you _..._"

Some people greeted her in passing and Lana nodded absentmindedly in return. There was the woman who fixed her shirt the other day, the bearded man who had built a new table after one was smashed in a bar fight and some topless guy with a weird hat harassing the girl who, for some unfathomable reason, thought Lana was a great listener. Sometimes she would come to whine about how she had two boys she really liked and couldn't decide between them. Actually, one of them was coming down the street now, this was definitely not going to be pretty—_wait a minute._

_Wait._

Lana stopped short, feeling like she'd run into a solid brick wall.

The topless guy.

Something was off about him. Lana narrowed her eyes against the rising sun, unable to put her finger on it–maybe because that ghost kid had taken to playing with the fingers of Lana's free hand. She was going on about how some herb could ease cramps if you put the leaves on your skin, and suddenly, it hit Lana.

Skin. _Topless_. This guy had no shirt on. That definitely wasn't normal for this island. Nor was that ridiculous orange cowboy hat or the honest-to-god necklace, if she thought about it. And then the girl's boyfriend walked right through him to greet his girl, who looked up and smiled. She didn't seem to notice how the boy split up in two right before her eyes, the cowboy stepping away with a disappointed frown and confirming Lana's worst suspicions.

"—and gramps said it grows almost anywhere in the world—"

She grabbed the kid's hand and whirled them back to the way they had come, effectively stopping the girl's babbling.

"Where are we going? The tavern is that way."

"Oh, I know, I, uhm—" _think, Lana, think, before she sees him_ "—I was thinking that, since you're so into plants, we ... could make a detour through the fields and—and circle back to the tavern from the back!"

"Oh." Pigtails seemed to mull over this for a moment. Then she broke into a grin. "Alright! I can show you all the _really_ helpful plants!"

Lana breathed in relief while the girl resumed her lecture, this time about about the medical uses of dandelions and stinging nettles and Lana didn't even mind, as long as they were steadily moving away from Topless Guy.

Who was, without a doubt, another bloody spirit.

_Where the hell_ had he come from? Not from here, that much was certain, she'd have noticed. How could he have … had there been anything different today? Just the usual round, but there had to be something she'd missed. She couldn't say if people had been more chatty than usual, since she had basically tuned out on any long speeches due to some little blabbermouth, but they had been in a terrible hurry, because they had wanted ... to get to the harbour.

Lana cursed.

The ship. _Of course!_ There were never any ships docked, only fisher boats. Also, while she was busy sending Pigtails death glares this morning, hadn't Jet said that there was … ugh, what was it … a–a trading vessel in the harbour? Since everyone had wanted to see what they could stock up on this rare occurrence, they had hastened to get rid of her …. but he would leave again. He had to. He would get bored of this dull, dreary rock and return on deck. As soon as the town would finish trading, the ship would pull out and disappear: it shouldn't take more than one or two days, if she considered her own experience of sailing with traders. Until then, she'd only have to stay away and feign ignorance–unlike yesterday, she wouldn't be caught off-guard.

But while her gaze followed the ghost girl's outstretched finger here and there, she missed the one, obvious miscalculation she had made.

* * *

_Plink-plink, the marbles clinked against the tiles. The rest slipped from your suddenly limp fingers. Plink-plink-plink._

_You–you couldn't breathe. Tears spilled over your cheeks as you desperately clawed at the arm of the man who had your neck in an iron grip, your feet dangling uselessly two feet above the ground._

"_So you're alive, but can still converse with me and my dead kind, huh?" He smiled and brought you even closer to his face. "Now I bet it means you know of a way for me to come back to life, am I right?"_

"_Please," you croaked, "I'm so sorry I hit you, I didn't see, I'm sorry! I don't know, please_—"

_Someone pulled at your feet, yelling at you, screaming, you knew they were still there, might have had gotten mamma and papà, and_—

"_You see," he said conversationally, "I have a score to settle, and I think you understand how I can't do that in my current state."_

_A fog creeped over her vision, bringing the grin of the man strangely into focus. You didn't see him moving, but suddenly, there was a blade at your neck, digging into your skin where the fingers of his other hand ended._

"_Don't test my patience, girl. You know exactly what I mean," he growled._

_The voices of everyone else were blurring into noises in the background and you realized, gasping for air and pleading_—

_Nobody would be able to save you from something they couldn't see._

_A heavy weight slammed into your back. His grip slipped and suddenly, you were on the ground and everything hurt and you didn't understand. He had let go, but your neck was still hurting, burning, it didn't make sense and you wanted it to stop, just stop. Your top clung to your skin, something wet trickling down, d__rip-drip, _but you hadn't cried that much, had you?

_There were hands and voices, lots of them, talking and crying and screaming. You were drifting, drowning in the sea of them, but then a few cool, smooth spheres were pressed into your hand._

_You clung to them and wondered if it meant the game was over, or if it was still going, but the rules had changed._

* * *

The sun was high in the sky and the tavern already bursting at the seams, full of people eager to chatter about the ship and their trades. They also had a lot to say about the trader himself, all alone on his ship. He was said to have been constantly distracted and had declined the invitation to a drink, but the villagers simply explained it away with his foreign origin.

Lana frowned and maneuvered her tray around the ghost girl, who was counting how many times she could jump up and down on one leg. An absent-minded trader alone with a ghost—bloody hell, the noise and the stuffy air made it so hard to _think_.

"Lana, be a dear and bring this outside?"

Lana blinked and accepted the three tankards Jet thrust into her hands. "Outside?" Then she remembered the table they had on the patio out front. "Oh yeah, outside. Right away."

Pigtails followed after her, still hopping ("... 495, 496 ..."), while Lana pushed open the bat-wing doors with one shoulder. She took a deep breath of fresh air and set down the drinks in front of the three men who murmured their thanks. Behind her, she heard the girl curse "Bilberry!" after missing a step when the doors passed through her and Lana smirked.

The smile faded quickly when she turned and spotted a familiar orange cowboy hat coming down the road.

She forced herself to breathe.

Okay, so he had probably been bound to check out the tavern sooner or later. There he was, now she only had to ignore and pretend she didn't see him. Lana averted her eyes and hurried back to the door.

"Oooooh, who's that? He looks _weird!_"

Lana froze. No. Oh no. She wouldn't ….

From the corner of her eyes, she saw that mouldy kid jumping down from the patio to the road.

"Lana, look! He's naked!"

_Of course_ she would.

"Come back here," Lana hissed. All she got was confused glances from the men off the side and the back view of a pair of bouncing pigtails.

Lana cursed heaven and hell for her rotten luck. Listening to Pigtails whoop in joy, the wheels whirred frantically in her head. What the bloody hell was she supposed to do now? Should she go back inside? But then, maybe he'd follow her and—oh hell, now the kid was pointing at her, thank God she wasn't looking right at them. Which meant that maybe … maybe she could still pull it off.

She closed her eyes and calmed her breathing, taking a step to the side and holding her face into the sun. Even though she tried her hardest to concentrate solely on the warmth of the rays on her skin, she could still feel them come closer.

"—she can be really mean sometimes, but that's just because she's lonely. Did you see her hair? Isn't it weird?"

"That's nothing," Lana heard him respond. "A friend of mine has hair that makes him look like an overgrown pineapple. Only blonde."

"Really? What's a pine-apple?"

"Err ... a fruit. You've never had one?"

Fruits. Wonderful, her _favourite_ topic.

"No ... Can it do anything useful?"

"Uhm … It uh, tastes good?"

They were standing directly in front of her now. Lana guessed that if the guy had been alive, he would've blocked the sun from her.

"Hey Lana, look! He's a ghost, too! And he says he's been looking for you!"

Lana blinked lazily and stared pointedly right over the girl's head. "The sun sure is nice today."

Puzzled silence.

"Can she really see us?" the guy asked Pigtails.

Lana felt a twinge of triumph and added: "I hope the girl is behaving, though."

Said girl tilted her head. "I think she's talking to me. But I don't know what she means, because I haven't broken any of those rules ..."

_Only because I wasn't fast enough,_ Lana grumbled inwardly. She yawned demonstratively and began to retreat, "Time to get back to work, I guess ..."

"Hey, wait!"

A muscular hand closed around her arm and stopped her in mid-turn. Lana closed her eyes.

"Wha—I can touch her!"

_Damn._

"Didn't I tell you?" The girl grinned. "That's the awesomest part!"

The guy pulled Lana around again and lowered his head to look her straight in the eyes.

"So I bet you can hear me, too?"

His black, curious eyes stared her down. Between the sun in her eyes and the glaring colour of that ridiculous hat, she could barely make out a freckled face framed by shaggy black hair. The sun shone right through the outline of his features_. _Even Lana couldn't miss his ghostly nature anymore, so she sighed in defeat and yanked her arm out of his grip. Throwing a quick look over her shoulder to the men who were thankfully still deep in conversation, she lowered her voice.

"_Yes,_ goddammit. What do you want?"

The guy blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself properly." He bowed and smiled up at her. "Hello, I'm Ace, pleased to meet you. I'm afraid I'm in need of your assistance."

Lana stared at him. "Yeah, I'm Lana—and I couldn't care less." Abruptly, she swung her gaze to the kid. "Okay, another rule, Pigtails. Don't tell other ghosts about me _and don't bloody lead them to me_."

The girl frowned. "Why?"

"Because they always want some help I can't give."

With that, Lana began to step back towards the door, but the guy caught her wrist again. "Wait, you don't even know what I was going to ask!"

She cast another glance behind her, but the men still weren't paying attention her. Her voice was probably drowned out by the noise coming through the doorway to the common room.

"Fine. Ask away. But kindly leave if I say no."

"Okay." He dropped her hand and looked down at the girl's curious face and back at her. "Okay. See, I have—_had _this brother who I've been searching for, but up until a while ago, I thought I was looking for a ghost. But, well, it occurred to me that there's actually a high chance he's still alive, so I need to change tactics."

He looked at her expectantly.

"... So, your _point?_" Lana asked.

"Someone has to ask around the living and well, I can't do that. I doubt he'd be anywhere but on the Grand Line and—"

"_Woah,_ stop right there." Lana raised a hand in front of her. "You want _me_ to find your _possibly _dead but also _possibly_ alive brother?"

"Yes."

"On the _bloody Grand Line _where you're just _guessing _he is?"

"Yes."

Lana couldn't help but gape at him. "That's the most idiotic idea I've ever heard. Let me think about it for a second." She paused and cocked her head."_No._"

"Come on ... err, please?" He smiled, as if convinced that adding a little polite word would win her over.

"_Forget it,_" she snorted. "Do you know how many people die there?"

His smile morphed into a condescending smirk. "Don't tell me you're scared."

"Death equals _dead people_ equals _ghosts_, you moron!" She ran her fingers through her hair, ignoring the exclaim "_Oh, can we go?"_ from the kid. "As you might have noticed, I'm _not_ very fond of your species."

"Oh, she's not_ fond_ of us? What a _shame_."

Lana jumped at the new voice. Another man had come up beside Mr. Cowboy-Hat. The telltale glow of a ghost that surrounded him made her stomach churn. _She could feel it _and the shivers that this little fact sent down her spine were too familiar.

She cursed and her breath hitched. "Has there been a bloody epidemic lately?!"

"Ah, no," the new guy smiled. He must have been in his late twenties, maybe early thirties when he died_; _his brown hair was still full, but the first lines had already dug their way into his tanned skin. With his dress shirt hung untugged over long cargo-pants and the scruffy stubble on his face, he radiated careless confidence.

"We travelled all this way just for you, Miss," he said gallantly. "Congratulations on finding her by the way, Mr. Portgas."

His companion raised an eyebrow and seemed to fight a grimace. "Well, I usually find the people I'm looking for in the end."

"Who're you?" blurted Pigtails.

"Why, I'm Jean." He didn't even spare the girl a glance. Instead, he casually pointed back over his shoulder. "And the man coming up behind me is my wonderfully obedient brother, Pierre."

A shadow fell over Lana's feet. The man came to a halt behind the ghosts, even though he could have just walked through them. His skin was sagging in places where muscles, and possibly quite some fat had waned from a formerly stout body. It couldn't have been too long ago, either. What might have been a rich brown colour once upon a time had faded from his unkempt hair. His now oversized shirt was inside out, but his dishevelled appearance wasn't what made Lana feel sick to her stomach.

It was the haunted look in his eyes.

"Hello," she whispered.

He didn't answer. Instead, the ghost brother cleared his throat pointedly.

"While I am sorry to overhear that she has declined your proposition, my dear friend," he said and patted the cowboy on the shoulder, "I'm positive I won't be so unlucky."

The cowboy narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Cargo-pants ignored him and fixed Lana with his grey eyes. "Since you have the ability to converse with us, I wager you know a way of revival, am I right?"

Heavy silence followed his question. Her heart beat echoed deafening in her ears and the air left her lungs in a whoosh. So maybe she should be surprised, but the ice in her veins only confirmed the dread that had been crawling under her skin all along. What else could he want? He already had his brother hovering behind him in a gruesome twist of the natural order.

The cowboy, on the other hand, was staring at him in slack-jawed.

"_What?"_

"Can you do that, Lana?" Pigtails asked with huge eyes.

Lana shook her head and took a deep breath. This wasn't like ten years ago; she was _not_ eleven years old anymore.

"No. I'm sorry, but I'm unable to help you," she told Cargo-pants, trying to conceal the shaking in her voice.

Her answer didn't seem to faze him in the slightest. "I'm sure, at least not without a proper life sacrifice ...?"

"You don't mean ..." The cowboy quickly looked behind him at the brother.

_Of course he does,_ Lana felt like screaming at him, but she couldn't. A twitch could be enough and she might slip, loose control and so she needed everything she had to stop from shivering.

"You must see it's entirely unfair that I died while my spineless brother survived ...?"

The cowboy backed away, raising his fists. "You son of a—"

"I'm sorry, but I'm still unable to help you," Lana interrupted him. She pulled an open-mouthed Pigtails behind her and held out her other hand to Cargo-pants. "Good day, Sir."

His lips tightened as he looked down to her hand and back to her face, seemingly unimpressed by the hateful glare he was being pierced with from the side. "I don't believe you," he growled, "I know I can touch you, so believe me, you either do what I tell you of your own free will or else ..." He let his unfinished sentence hang in the air.

Lana nodded. "Okay," she stepped up close to him and smiled up at his expectant face.

"_Then go to hell."_

With one swift motion, she reached up and pushed down his shoulders, simultaneously bringing up her knee to his midsection. He gasped in pain and surprise, doubling over. But she didn't give him any time to recover. She seized his head with both hands and with one powerful jerk, she wrenched it around to the sweet sound of a snapping neck.

He crumbled to her feet.

"What the—"

She ignored the baffled shouts and stepped over the body to the dazed brother, breathing hard.

"Okay buddy, let me give you a piece of advice you better follow if you don't want to die." She took a deep breath. "Run, as fast as you can. This'll probably be your only chance to get away from him. Just bloody _run_."

He blinked at her and seemed to see her for the first time. "Wha-?"

She looked down at his brother and saw how his head was slowly but surely shifting around. The neck was readjusting itself; her time was running out. Clenching her teeth, she straightened and grabbed Pigtails' hand. With the ghost girl stumbling after her, she shoved her way past the goddamn_ idiot_ who'd gotten himself possessed.

Of course, the men on the patio chose this moment to bring themselves back into the picture. "Hey there, Mr. Trader!" one of them hollered. "Did the young lady want to buy something?"

"She sure was acting strange just now!" another one called.

"I don't kn—"

_Right. Customers._ "Hey you!" she yelled to the men over her shoulder and sped up, "Tell Jet I'm sorry and–and I'll be back later!"

She didn't wait for a response and raced around the next corner. Her feet were hammering on the ground as the sound of her heavy breathing grated on her ears. She refused to stop and think. As soon as the adrenaline wore off, she would have plenty of time for that. The thoughts would come by themselves, whether she wanted them to or not–but any time now, that spirit-head would face the right direction again.

"Where are we running?"

The timid voice reminded Lana of her baggage, which was slowing her down considerably. Stupid, why did she have to haul the girl along with her? She was dead, practically gone, nothing to worry about—herself, on the other hand ... Lana said nothing and pulled around another corner. She had absolutely no idea where she was going, except for a very clear _far, far away_. Maybe the idiotic brother was smart enough to do the same, but that ghost might have recovered already. _Mouldy spirit regeneration …_

"Lana—" the girl panted behind her, "—can we—can we stop now? I'm—I'm tired."

She kept running. "You're dead. You shouldn't get tired."

"But—"

Laughter boomed through the alley.

"And here I thought you were being pretty impressive, up until you ran with your tail between your legs."

Her feet screeched to such a sudden halt that the girl slammed into her back. Lana's eyes darted around wildly for the source of his voice. She found him perched on the roof above her, just as he pushed off and landed in front of her with practiced ease. At the sight of his stupid smirk and idiotic hat and his broad, pretentiously _shirtless_ chest, she felt the carefully crafted ice inside of her chest crack. It didn't matter that she'd long forgotten his name.

"You!" she snarled. "_You mouldy idiot_ brought him here, didn't you! You told him! _How the hell did you know about me?!_"

His hands came up in an attempt to pacify her. "Oi, calm down! Look, I'm sorry he turned out to be such a bastard." He frowned. "It's just wrong, what he wants—I swear I didn't know—"

"_Answer the rotten question!"_

"Okay, okay!" He threw up his hands. "Yes, I told him why I was looking for you! He gave me a lift, after all! Otherwise I would have needed _months_ to get here."

She clenched her teeth. "Who else knows?"

"I don't know—Oi, hold your seakings!" he added hurriedly when she took a deep breath to yell some more. "I haven't told anyone else. But that dead old grandpa who told me about you and where to find you might have."

"Dead old—" Then realisation dawned on her. "Oh, that mildewy ...!" she whispered faintly.

Pigtails tugged at her hand. "Who is he talking about?"

Sheer powerlessness threatened to overwhelm her and Lana closed her eyes, bracing herself for the avalanche. Because she remembered, she goddamn _remembered_ the last ghost she had met before that bloody kid started pushing up daisies. She remembered the old man who had missed his chance to travel the world when he was alive and had wanted to make up for it before he left for good. The one who had promised her nothing ever happened on this island when she disembarked three years ago.

"Lana?"

"Oh, God," she gazed ahead, unseeing. "If that old chatterbox is going around telling– who knows how many—oh bloody _hell!_"

"I _hate_ to interrupt your panicking, but I think you have other things to worry about right now."

Her eyes snapped back to him. His crossed arms revealed a tattoo on his left arm to her, spelling ASCE. How great, as least she had a way to remember the muscle brain's name. She opened her mouth to tell _'Asce'_ to go to hell, but right then, a deafening crash split the air. It echoed on the streets.

"What's going on?" The kid's grip on her hand tightened. "Lana?"

Asce—no, _Ace_, if the crossed out letter was anything to go by_, _tilted his head, "I _think_ that was the patio. Probably the doors, too." Someone screamed, and more voices joined in. "And those—" he fixed her with his black eyes, "—would be the ones who were enjoying a drink in that lovely tavern."

She stared at him. "He wouldn't—"

"Honestly, what did you think was going to happen?" He shook his head in exasperation. "That brother wasn't going to leave, and _he _wasn't going to give up so easily. Of course he would make him take apart the next best thing you could have hid in!"

In the background, she heard the sound of breaking glass among the tangle of terrified voices, forming a dreadful chorus to accompany her internal battle. Oh God, how she wanted to simply get away, to pretend all of this never happened. She didn't want this, any of it. Because last time … last time she'd stayed and everything went horribly wrong.

Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

"Lana?"

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped at the girl, who recoiled and let go of her hand. "I need to—I need to think—"

"There's nothing to think about." She looked up and saw him smirk. "Fight. You might even beat him."

The anger triggered by that bloody patronising smile of his chased away all the unbidden confusion and fear at once.

He didn't know _anything_.

"Oh, yeah?" she bit out. "And you think he'll do me the favour and stay down?" She raked her fingers through her hair and turned away. "_I don't think so._"

Then she paused. _Wait a minute._

_He_ was a ghost, too.

She whirled back around. "You," she pointed at him. "Those muscles better not be for show, because you're going to help me chase him back to the sea! It's your fault he's here in the first place."

He grinned and tipped back his hat. "How about this: I promise to help you beat the crap out of the guy, if you promise to help me find my brother."

Lana glared at him. "You are the one that brought him here! It's your rotten _duty_ to help! I have no obligation whatsoever to—"

Another crash in the distance interrupted her and this time, she could swear she heard her newest ghost-friend howl with laughter. Ace looked at her expectantly.

"Time's running out."

Lana took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Fine," she spat. "I _promise_ to see what I can do. I'll even give you a bloody therapy session and you can whine about all of your itty-bitty regrets and tell me how bloody unfair life is, alright?!"

"Nah, I'll just take the help with searching." He bowed his head. "I give you my thanks for your kind offer! I was itching to introduce him to my fists."

She clenched her teeth and lowered her head level with the wide eyes of the girl.

"Hey, Pigtails," she said and tried to smile, but ended up with something closer to a grimace. "Things are going to get ugly. Remember those rules?" The girl nodded. "They're still effective. Especially the third one."

"Don't be in the way," Pigtails whispered.

"Exactly. So be a nice girl and stay here, alright?"

The girl shook her head vigorously, her pigtails flapping around. "I'm gonna come with you!"

"I've told you, you—"

A particularly loud scream reached her ears. She didn't have time for this. "Fine! Fine. But stay outside of the fight, or I'll get very angry. Okay?"

When the girl nodded, Lana straightened and turned the way she had come.

"Let's get this over with."

* * *

A few hundred yards away, across the remnants of what once had been a wooden patio and through a doorway bereft of their usual, merry bat-wing doors, a brawl was in full swing.

Or rather, it might have looked like an all-out brawl to an outsider, but it was actually many patrons trying to help one big, burly barman wrestle down a visitor who, defying his scruffy appearance, proved to be unexpectedly strong.

Jet didn't know what on earth was going on. This morning, the man had seemed exceptionally peaceful, despite being somewhat absentminded. He couldn't explain why he had suddenly gone on a rampage and started attacking his guests; or how the trader, with that half-dried up body, could hold his own against him—_him_, who could easily break up any quarrels in his tavern with his fists without even breaking a sweat!

But while he tried to make sense of it all while simultaneously blocking blow after blow, he didn't spare a thought for the odd behavior of the girl living under his roof.

That was, until a shadow fell over the entrance.

"Hey you! Still interested in revival?"

The grip of the man went slack and Jet almost landed a hit before he registered _who_ and _what_ had been spoken and his head snapped up in disbelief.

"_Lana?!"_

Her silhouette was illuminated by the radiant afternoon sunlight, making it seem as if her wild auburn locks had been set on fire. Jet saw how her green eyes flashed grimly in the deep shadows that shrouded her face and it occurred to him, quite suddenly, that even after knowing her all this time–despite everything he had believed–this woman standing before him was a complete stranger.

She took a step back.

"How about we take this outside?"

* * *

_Reviews are my bread and butter. Don't let me starve, heh? This is actually my first multi-chapter story as well as my first OC-story, so whatever you've got to say, throw it at me!_


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